The Black Parade
by ThreeBulletsAtTheDangerParade
Summary: The Black Parade is a place for tragic souls, souls who are forced to wander the barren land with only their fear, regret and memories of the life they once knew. The Patient has just joined, but darkness is stirring and then there's that deal with the Head Marcher... Will he be able to help save the Parade and redeem himself or is he destined for hell and agony? Brothers in arms.


Chapter 1: The End.

It's dark. _Black as a nightmare _as he's come to call it. It's a normal thing, but it doesn't make it any less terrifying or uncomfortable. Sometimes he thinks he can hear voices, low and hollow like a ghost's. Sometimes he can see soulless, white eyes peering at him. Sometimes there are wolves with silver eyes and fangs that glint in an unknown light.

Other times he can see the faded faces of people he used to know and perhaps even cared about. They wail and cry at him desperate and angry. Once or twice he had even felt their ice, cold hands grip his arms and dig their nails into his flesh. He bares the marks when he wakes up too… The doctor assured him that he makes the marks himself during his sleep, but he's not so sure.

Ice. All around him is ice… or at least that's what it feels like. He's so cold. His body is shaking like a fall leaf clinging to the twisted limb of an oak tree. He can feel it jerk and twist, out of his control. He doesn't like it. Not one bit.

It reminds him of his lack of control over his life, his body and self, and past. Of course he'd rather die first before those fears escaped his chapped lips, in some stumbling, embarrassing manor.

No.

To the world, to family, to friends… no, wrong again. _Acquaintances. _Yes, simply acquaintances, certainly nothing more and perhaps even less. To them he is in control: he is his own God. He couldn't be bothered with other living organisms anyway. The very thought of _friends _made him whither and scowl. Really, he didn't understand the need and sheer stupidity of human kind to want to have _friends._ Liability is a better word, really.

And family? Well… it's a touchy subject that he'd rather just prefer to ignore all together. And he prides himself on the _talent _to push un-important _liabilities_ to the back of his mind until the sheer thought is nothing more than a twisted, crumpled heap, shoved into the darkest and forgotten pits of his mind. Right where it belongs.

Then there's Alicia… no, there _was _Alicia. Honestly he isn't even sure why he bothers to remember her name… Or her caramel hair that fell in a soft cascade around her shoulders and that always smelled of apples, or her eyes, bluer than the bluest, most clear summer sky and the way they lit when she talked about music or her—again he pushes these thoughts away.

_I _left_ her. She was bringing me down. _

He can hear the faint beep of a machine. A heart monitor perhaps? It wouldn't surprise him. At least he's alive.

He can feel his right arm now. Actually feel it—he can wiggle one finger, then another and _another._ He can feel a smile twist at his lips, only a slight, microscopic one mind you, barely a twitch of the muscle, easily mistaken, if even noticed, as a twitch.

The smell of antiseptic is sharp and overwhelming along with the stench of other drugs and metal. The smell of death hangs faintly in the air, paired with a sweet, too sweet, vanilla, probably used in haste. The lights feel hot on his skin but he notices that his skin still feels like ice. _That's new._

He scrunched his eyes tightly together, bracing himself for the bright light that is sure to blind him. He can hear faint, distant voices, voices that are quickly becoming louder, closer, and sharper. He can hear words now. Sentences. English, yes sweet English. The sentences and words are coming and start to make sense.

"Doc—" _Doctor. _"Iz he—" _Is he. _"Awak—" _Awake?_ Curiously he wonders who is speaking. After many visits to the white building he had grown used to, and able to recognize, the voice of his doctors and nurses. This male voice, however, was new.

"Awake?" Another new male voice, he presumed was the doctor, asked before chasing the question with a laugh. "Define _awake._" The first voice huffed and he heard the light stomp on the ground, indicating that the owner of the first voice had stomped his foot. A rather childish act… The doctor was a bit unnerving, laughing and asking the first voice to define _awake. What on earth did he mean?_

"You know what I mean." The annoyance was clear in his voice. The doctor, or someone, chuckled.

"No, really." He drawled. "Please enlighten me." Before the first voice could answer, he decided to make himself known, not liking being ignored. He groaned and shifted around in the hospital bed, grabbing a fistful of blanket. The material is silky and foreign to him: he doesn't remember hospital sheets being so soft.

The voices cease and it's the first time he can hear a dull, dragged-out hum, like the annoying ring in his ears he's heard far too many times in the solitude of his penthouse.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to join us." The doctor taunted, you could hear the smile in his voice. He tried to pry open his eyes but the light that slipped through his lashes stopped him from wanting to open them farther.

He grunted again and the first voice snorted. "He ain't no sleeping beauty."

"Shut up." The doctor scolded. "Need I remind you that you didn't look so hot when you arrived here." The first voice remained silent and by the noise, he guessed, he was shifting his weight. _Here? What did he mean "here?" Surely the hospital, right? _

"Don't mind him. He's a bit sour. Brother didn't get his coffee this morning. Don't you hate that? Not getting your coffee in the morning? I know I do." The doctor started to ramble until he took notice of the patient's still closed eyes. "Are you going to open your eyes? Or am I going to have to do it for you?" And once again he could hear the smile on the doctor's lips, this time a bit more wickedly and perhaps morbid. The patient got the terrifying impression that the doctor might be slightly insane. The doctor giggled. "Don't tempt me."

Or completely.

Against his eye's protest he forced his eyes open. He didn't think that the doctor would do anything to him, really. But he didn't want to take any chances.

The light, as he predicted, stung and rendered him momentarily blind. Everywhere was bright white and he spat a venomous curse. He heard someone snicker. And he could still hear the dull hum. The doctor scolded, "Now, now, this isn't the time for naughty language."

The first voice coughed. "Hypocrite." The doctor ignored him.

He could feel the presence of someone leaning over him. However, to his confusion, he couldn't feel the hot breath on his face or the body heat coming off of this mystery person. It reminded him of his own cold skin. He didn't like it; it was un-nerving.

Forcing the light away he could begin to see silver hair, cheekbones, and eyes. Slowly, but surely the face became more real and clearer. However he wasn't prepared for the face of the man, or rather lack-there-of. Empty eye sockets peered at him like black holes. In those eyes he could see his very own fears, doubts, regrets, pain, misery, and the people whom he had wronged. It was like looking into the fiery pits of hell.

He jerked back in horror and he let out a strangled gasp.

A toothy grin spread across the skeletal face of the doctor above him. "My… you're a rather hopeless one aren't you?" His body jerked before giving out and his eyes rolled back into his head as darkness over came him again. The ringing of the doctor's maniacal laughter and the long, single note of a heart monitor followed him until there was nothing but cold emptiness.

**Hey, guys, guess what? It's my 20th story! Whoop! I want to continue this, but when I get to it, is a completely different animal. Meh. **

**TBATDP**


End file.
